23 June 2014

Yesterday I attended another Russian-Jewish pre-wedding event.
Unsurprisingly the previous two nights were carnage where much vodka and beer
was consumed by the young folk. I dropped in for a token drink on Friday and
had another wedding to go to on Saturday – however I could tell from the pallid
faces that alcoholic mayhem had ensued.

It was apparent that the
Russian super-model type girls had bested the Australian boys again though.
Their capacity for alcohol is enormous and the big Bogan boys never stood a
chance.

It was a nice change though
from the farewell soirees I have been going to of late. There have been many of
those and they are as sad as they are drunken. Many of these farewells have
been for departing English.

Any event involving the
English here on the Island is inevitably drunken.

It is what they do.

The weekend before last
though I did attend a farewell event and it was for an English. Despite his
nationality he is not a bad bloke. The name of the Englishman who is returning
to the Mother country is of no consequence. He is gone now and a few others and
I will miss him. He is a kind and decent person and Singapore will be a lesser
place without him.

It really will

The English often refer to
their homeland as the Mother Land. The Mother Land is not actually
an English term at all. Its origins are Russian. A very large and hairy man
named Dmitry informed of this at the pre-wedding soiree and such was a his size
that I dared not doubt him – at least not out loud.

Dmitry informed me that "Mother
Russia" is a term used by Russians to describe their homeland. Quite a few
Germanic and Scandinavian countries refer to their homelands a
"Fatherlands". The Dutch call Holland "Vaderland". Danish
refer to Denmark as "Faedreland" and to the Swedes it is "Fadernslandet".
We Australians just call home "Australia".

It has no gender.

We tend to keep things
straightforward and simple.

It is what we do.

The un-named English friend to
whose departure event I attended a week ago is relocating back to his hometown
of Bath. This is a spa town in the county of Somerset. I have been there before
and it is very pretty.

Bath was first established by
the Romans a couple of thousand years ago. They constructed a village on top of
a hot spring. The Romans liked to bathe in hot springs and they bathed
together. The Romans also invented the orgy. I am assuming that the orgy arose
from this bathing together.

Ironically the English do not
like to bathe at all.

The Roman baths are
remarkably well preserved in the city of Bath and they are a major tourist
attraction. When I first visited Bath I was a tourist.

The Roman Baths attracted me.

The un-named English dude who
was departing the Island told me at his event that he was very excited to be
returning home. I suspect that he was looking forward to a bath but I did not
say this.

He has been living in
Singapore for a decade or so and he told me that life on the Island has worn
him down. I replied to him that it wears us all down and we will all inevitably
leave.

The heat and humidity of this
place is punishing and even as I write this I feel some madness beginning to
engulf and consume me.

I struggle to push it away.

Home is also somewhere that
we all desire to return to. I miss my home and my family. I am feeling quite
homesick right now just thinking and writing about it. Home is a place where we
feel that we belong. Home is memories - it is places and faces and times gone
by.

It is comfort and
familiarity.

Home is not just a place. It
is an irrevocable condition and at this exact point in time I yearn and ache
for it.

I pine for it.

I miss it a lot.

Much of the normal crowd was
at the farewell function last weekend. There were a great many English of all
shapes and sizes – they were mostly Londoners but also some Northerners as
well.

Ay Oop.

There were also Scots and
Welsh and several Irish. Wherever there are copious amounts of alcohol involved
there are always the Irish. Australians and New Zealanders were also well
represented and there were also some people in attendance from Germany and
France. There were many Singaporeans too. Our friend is much liked and there
was a healthy gathering to say our goodbyes.

There were quite a few other
rowdy groups at the Bar where we had gathered for the English farewell. The
venue was in a pub district of Singapore called Club Street. The roads are
blocked off on the weekends and people tend to spill out into the street in
this area and groups get intermingled.

I chatted to a group of
Israeli tourists who were sitting at a table next to where I was sitting for a
while. They seemed to be both intrigued and a little concerned by the drunken
English and Europeans that were surrounding them.

I introduced myself by
reassuring them that they were mostly harmless.

I told them this because they
mostly are.

Harmless.

There were half a dozen
Israelis in their group and they were all women. The women were of various
ages. I was quite surprised when I said hello that they collectively announced
that they were all lesbians. I was a little taken aback at this unexpected
declaration of their sexuality and I didn't really know how to respond.

I think that I simply
congratulated them.

I then told them that I was a
heterosexual.

It was a bit strange but this
is Singapore and weird shit happens here all the time. It is why I quite like
it.

I mostly chatted to two of
the Israeli lesbians. Their names were Liat and Maya. They told me that they
were a couple. When I asked them why they thought that it was necessary to tell
me that they were all lesbians they looked at me in a fairly blank fashion and
said, "Because ve are"

"But I don't
generally go around announcing to strangers that I am heterosexual" I argued.

"Because men are all peegs,”
the girl named Maya
replied.

That simply didn't make any
sense to me.

I told Maya and Liat this and
they got a bit arrogant and petulant. Israelis are a bit like this. I quite
like this as well.

"Men are all
pigs?"

"Steenking
peegs"

"Well it is obvious
that many of these guys are,” I
agreed - pointing out some of the English who were reveling around us.

"But I think it
is a bit unfair to say that I am actually a stinking pig" I added.

"You don't know me at
all"

"All men are peegs,” Maya asserted

"Israeli men are all
pigs?' I enquired.

"Beeg peegs" Maya replied.

"You think this too?" I asked Liat.

She shrugged in a
non-committal manner.

"I assume that you
both have fathers? Are they pigs"

"You are calling my
father a peeg?" Maya
demanded.

Her aggression was delighting
me.

"No I am just asking.
You said all men are pigs"

"He ees not a
peeg"

At that moment my mate
Australian mate Simon lurchedup to me. He is an affable Bogan and was
as pissed as a newt.

"Owitgoin Hep?" he enquired.

His speech was slurred and he
was a little wobbly on his feet.

"Who have we got
here?" he grinned.

Simon was holding a stubby of
beer in one hand and had an unlit and fairly sodden cigarette in his other.

"These are my new
lesbian Israeli friends Maya and Liat" I replied.

"They think all men
are pigs. Except their fathers"

"Lesbians huh? Fair
dinkum" Simon
declared.

"Sweet".

Simon is pure Bogan. He is
however a very friendly drunk and a genuine and likeable bloke who like me seemed
amused by the Israeli lesbians.

"Vot ees thees fair
deenkum?" Maya demanded
of me.

"It is Australian for
'Oh Really'" I
explained

Both Israeli lesbians cast
Simon withering looks of disdain.

He just laughed and staggered
away.

I persisted in my attempts at
friendly conversation with Liat and Maya and after awhile they chilled out a
bit and realized that I was neither drunk nor being sleazy. I very often strike
up conversations with strangers and it can take some time for them to let their
guard down and realize that I mean no harm.

I found out that these
lesbians had just completed their national service and were doing a whirlwind
tour of Asia before going back to serve in the Israeli army.

They told me that their next
destination was Nepal. I spend quite a bit of my spare time in Nepal for I love
the Himalaya Mountains and the Nepalese people. Nepal is the exact opposite of
Singapore and visiting there puts my life in perspective.

It punches the petty out of
Peter.

I showed the Israeli lesbians
some photos of Nepal on my IPhone and I gave them some tips on where they
should go and what I thought they should see when they were in Nepal. I also
gave them the name and contact details of some of my Nepalese friends who live
in Kathmandu and told them that they would be pleased to show them around this
ancient city.

I assured them that none of
my Nepalese friends were pigs.

Both Maya and Liat reminded
me a lot of my Hungarian Grandmother. They even sounded quite similar when they
spoke and they threw their hands around in the air a lot and they shrugged and
they pouted.

It was classic.

The Israeli lesbians warmed
quite a lot when I told them that I had Jewish blood. They knew not though that
my Hungarian grandmother was a mad woman.

She was certifiably insane.

Simon lurched up again at one
point and told me that he was leaving. He said, "Hooroo Hep. Seez ya
later lesbian sheilas"

"Hooroo is Australian
for goodbye and a sheila is Australian for a woman" I explained.

"Hep is my nickname.
It is a shortened version of my quite long surname'

"Oosralians speak in
a strange language,” Maya
observed.

"We sometimes do,” I agreed.

I then asked the lesbian
Israelis what it was like living in a country that was surrounded by Arab
people who wanted to exterminate them. They told me that it was very difficult
and stressful. I have talked about such matters to both Israelis and
Palestinians before and can only imagine what it would be like.

Living amongst such constant
violent conflict must be a real bitch.

It must be fucked actually.

I was surprised when the
Israeli lesbians informed me that they had many Palestinian friends and that
they thought that Israel should remain out of Gaza. I told them that I agreed
that Palestine should be allowed to rule its own destiny.

My Northern friend the Hammer
and one of the Scottish lads I know then wandered over to the table I was
sitting at with the Israeli lesbians. Both were holding very large glasses of
vodka and tonic and were noticeably inebriated.

"Ay Oop 'Ep" the Hammer roared and he put his large
and hairy and disgusting arm around me.

"Ay Oop Hammer" I replied as I shrugged off his attempted
embrace.

"Before you ask,” I explained to Liat and Maya, "Ay
Oopis a Northern English greeting. It is the equivalent of your
Shalom"

"This is the Hammer
and Ernie,” I said to
the Lesbians.

"The Hammer is
Lancastrian and Ernie is Scottish. They are both pigs"

"Tha's noot fooken
right" the insipid
Scot Ernie moaned.

"Ahm noot a fooken
pig"

"You most certainly
are Ernie" I
responded

"Ernie and you girls
have something in common too,”
I added.

"Ernie is also
gay"

"Ah ahm fookin
noot". Ernie
protested.

"Yez shood net be
saying that ta these lassies" Ernie continued in his irritating and
whining and Scottish voice.

"Vot language ees
these peegs speaking in? Maya
enquired

"Drunken
British" I
explained.

Ernie and the Hammer hovered
around the table for a little while then staggered off to refill their empty
glasses.

The Israeli lesbians began
asking me questions about Australia. They enquired about where I came from and
what I was doing in Singapore. I told them about Sydney and Melbourne and they
informed me that they planned to visit there one day. They told me that they
were interested in Australian animals and that they liked kangaroos but were
afraid of sharks.

I told the girls that my most
favorite animal in the world is the wombat and they said that they had never
heard of a wombat before. This is quite common for many non-Australians. I got
my phone out again and I pulled up a picture of a baby wombat for the Israeli
lesbians to see. They told me that they thought that it was very cute.

"Thees vombat it ees
dengeroos?' Maya asked
me

"Not at all" I informed her.

I told Maya and Liat that
wombats are docile vegetarians who sleep most of the day in holes in the
ground. Then they snuffle around at night eating roots and leaves. I also
informed them that the male wombat has one partner for his entire life and the
couple usually only produce a single baby. I told the Israeli women that I was
unsure if there were any gay wombats but I would do some research into the
matter.

I won't though.

Research the matter.

I just told them that for reasons
that I myself don't understand.

Wombats are very close and
have tight knit families. They mate for life and there is no animosity or
divorce in the wombat world.

"They are very
friendly and hairy little Australian pigs,” I told the Israeli lesbians.

I laughed when I told them
this and they laughed back.

We ended up chatting quite
amicably - these Israeli lesbians and I. They were very interested in
Australian idiom and language so I explained as best I could things like
bludgers and blokes and chooks and lamingtons. I told them the meaning of
chundering and dunnies and bogans.

They were a bit perplexed at
times and they asked lots of questions.

We all chortled a lot.

Not long before midnight I
told the Israeli lesbians that I was tired. I informed them that I had to go
and say goodbye to my English mate who was leaving the island and then go home
to bed. I said that that I had a very big week ahead of me with a monstrous
Russian Jewish wedding of two friends of mine.

I told both Israeli lesbians
that it was very nice to meet them and that I hoped that they would have an
enjoyable time for the rest of their stay in Singapore and then a wonderful
trip to Nepal.

They both smiled warmly when
I shook hands with them as I departed and the Israeli lesbian Maya said to me, "You
are not a peeg after all"

"I think I might be
sometimes actually Maya"
I replied.

"However hopefully I
am not for most of the time"

"See you later
Alligator,” I said as I
began to walk away.

"Vot ees dees you are
saying?" Liat
enquired.

"Oh it is another
Australian saying that just means goodbye" I responded.

"You should now say
'In a while crocodile" I added.

"So see you
later Alligator,” I
repeated.

"In a vile
croocodile" they
both giggled.

I laughed and waved goodbye
to them. Then I went to say a sad farewell to my English friend.

Then I went home.

Tomorrow I have the big and
long-awaited Russian-Jewish wedding where I will let my hair down and have a
few drinks.There will be some Israelis amongst
the throng and some of who may indeed be lesbians.

18 June 2014

I was out the other night
with two of my friends. We had dinner at a place in Club Street – which is a
restaurant area here in Singapore. We ate at an outside table. These two
friends of mine are Russian. One of them is engaged now actually – and is to be
wed on the weekend. She and her husband-to-be are good together because they
accept, understand and appreciate each other.

Acceptance.

Comprehension.

Appreciation.

I think these are the
fundamental requirements of a sound relationship - plus love of course.

So I am confident it will
work out well.

I was once again the only
bloke at dinner but I didn't mind. I quite liked it in fact. There was much discussion about their wedding plans.
It is going to be a big event apparently – more than a hundred guests coming from
all over the world but there will only be a few close friends attending from here in Singapore. I am
honored to be one of the close friends. The majority of people are coming from
overseas.

The bride is Russian.

The groom is Australian.

I like weddings - they are
happy events. This one is going to be Black Tie so I get to wear my tuxedo. I
have my own tuxedo and I have my own black tie. The tie is not one of those
elastic or clip on jobs - it is one that I knot myself.

It takes me a while to tie it
properly but it is worth the effort.

All good things require effort.

With the incessant heat
and humidity Singapore is not the best place to wear a tuxedo however I have
donned one before here and I have survived. I quite like getting dressed up on
the odd occasion - but I am normally otherwise a bit of a slob.

I feel most
comfortable in jeans and a tee shirt.

No shoes.

The bride-to-be is always
immaculately dressed. She is very stylish and is most fashion savvy. She is
classy.

Beautiful.

Elegant.

It is my belief that elegance
is innate. In my mind it has nothing to do with being well dressed. Elegance is
in fact refusal and it is sometimes surrender. Charles Dickens once
wrote,

"Great men are seldom
over-scrupulous in the arrangement of their attire".

Don't judge a book by
its cover he is saying.

Good one Charles.

So the talk of weddings led
on to discussions of love and romance. Girly stuff. I have seen the bride-to-be
petting the future groom on many occasions. She strokes his hand across the
table when we are out.

He loves it.

He laps it up.

The song “I Wanna Hold Your Hand’ was the first single released by the
Beatles. It was brilliant. The Beatles nailed it with that one because it is
what everyone wants really. Holding hands is a public expression of affection.
It is an unhidden demonstration of connection. John Lennon wrote the music and he
penned the lyrics as well.

Nice one
John.

We miss you.

The bride-to-be
wanted to hear a romantic moment from me and our other mutual friend did as
well. I resisted but they implored me to tell them a love story. So I gave them
one.

- A moment that
is.

The moment I
gave them happened a long time ago - when I was a youth. So that's a really
long time ago now. It was a time when I was just traveling around Europe. I was
just back-packing about the place. I was flitting here and there – taking
myself to wherever I fancied.

I moved on a
whimsy.

I was footloose.

I was fancy
free.

Those were the
days.

They really
were.

I told the girls
that on this long ago occasion I was in France and it was Summer. I had caught
a bus to a little village on the French Riviera. The name of the village
was Beaulieu-sur-Mer. I got
on the bus at Nice and as I alighted at the village square a girl got on. We
passed each other in the doorway and as she stepped up and I stepped down for a split second we locked eyes and we smiled
at each other. It was one of those moments where in a single glance souls were
instantaneously exchanged.

The Italians call such
moments 'colpo di fulminate.' - the thunderbolt. The Italians understand passion. They
get it.

Their passion is often entangled with a maelstrom of lust but they do
it very well. I have tasted love with an Italian before and it was both a sweet
and a fiery fruit.

But that's
another story - to be told another day.

Anyway in this
singular moment - in Beaulieu-sur-Mer - my chest felt as if it had cracked open.
I temporarily lost the capacity to breathe. By the time I realized what had
struck me the bus was driving away. I looked up at it departing and this girl - this
angel – she turned from her seat at the window and she smiled again and then
she gave me a little wave.

I
didn't even have time to wave back.

It is one of my life regrets.

As the bus
disappeared in the distance the breath whooshed out of my body and everything around me froze for a
moment. I felt as if I was looking at her departing
through a telescopic camera lens. I was zoomed in all the way and the world
around me paused for that tiny span of time between the opening and the closing
of the shutter.

Click.

I was only
planning on staying in Beaulieu-sur-Mer for a couple of days before moving on
to Monte Carlo.

However I stayed for a whole week. I spent much of the time
waiting at that bus stop.

Every day.

Hoping to see
this girl again.

This complete
stranger had stolen my heart in a blink of an eye. She had spellbound me.

Those were seven
timeless days filled with Hope.

Anxiety.

Anticipation.

Then ultimately
there was devastation.

I have heard
that when you meet the love of your life, time stops - and when it starts up again
it moves extra fast to catch up.

This is what it
was like.

I never saw her
again.

The re-telling
of this tale opened up an old wound and I told these friends of mine thus.

The bride-to-be
told me that she thought the story was beautiful and her friend nodded in agreement. I replied that it was all
just a bit sad.

When I think
about it now though I realize that some people flash into and then out of our
lives but they can leave imprints on our hearts. I don’t think that it happens very
often - however this was one of those moments.